The Will of God
by mizukiryu73
Summary: Sometimes, an Angel is deemed in need of reeducation. Is it painful? No one knows, least of all those angels, as the memories are simply an undesired byproduct of the lesson. Here is the story of one such Angel.
1. The Will of God

**Crime and Punishment**

For on moment after he is struck by the Killing Curse, Harry sits alone at the blissfully empty white train station. But that doesn't last long, because there is a man walking up to him, and when he tilts his head quizzically, he can see the ornate office he's sitting in and the desk directly before him. Mostly though, it is because of the sudden presence of a second, older, set of memories sharing space with those of _just Harry_.

It is _so_ easy, even easier than it had been as just _Harry_, to keep his overwhelming hatred of this Zachariah off of his face. This Zachariah, who claims to do God's Will but really does only what fits his needs. This Zachariah, who sits in front of him triumphantly, arrogantly, with his unworthy, un_Godly_, hands clasped over the file with _his _name on it.

"So," Zachariah begins with an arrogant smirk, "let's finish up your … education. Then I can clear you to go back to Earth, to go back to doing _God's Will,_ to go back to where you are needed, Castiel."

Castiel doesn't respond, which seems to fit Zachariah's expectations as he just nods and mutters about getting down to business, then.

Idly, though, Castiel wonders which memories he'll lose first. Unsurprisingly, the first thing to be permanently erased are the memories of his makeshift family. He gets only a second to see them as they flash behind his eyelids, past and present superimposed, before they fade and disappear.

Hermione, blind and betrayed by her mind, left sightless and powerless, so unlike the bright girl he had befriended.

Neville, old and withered before his time, but still a Lion at heart.

Luna, mind blown wide-open and scattered, seeing what could have been, what might be, and things that never are.

Draco, magicless and wifeless, as Luna lives in a land of dreams and hidden things so far away from him.

Ron and Ginny both, one dead in a pool of blood brighter than his hair, and the other surrounded by flames that are too bright, taking the last of the Weasley's just like the rest of her family had died.

And – _THIS IS WHY ANGELS DO NOT GET ATTACHED – _so on it goes through everyone he knew, until...

Then the places are lost too.

Hogwarts, proud and broken, dead students littering her halls as seen through the holes marring her broken frame.

The Burrow, trapped in to bright flames, becoming the Weasley funeral pyre.

Hogsmeade, stifled by the thick ash of the steadily burning forest.

And – _THIS IS WHY ANGELS DO NOT GET ATTACHED._

So it continues, each of his memories of Harry being stripped away, leaving only the lesson behind, until all that he has left are his worst memories of being Harry. Those of his relatives.

His Uncle, always angry, always ready to strike, to take it out on him.

His Aunt, so disapproving, so full of hate, so willing to blame him for everything.

His Cousin, following in his father's footsteps, monkey see, monkey do, hunt the freak, hurt the freak.

But even these memories, painful as they are, serve Zachariah's purpose. Because in the end, after the apocalypse, after the angels win, paradise will come to Earth and nothing like that would ever happen again. Everyone will be happy, happy and righteous. Besides, it is God's Will.

In the end, that is _all_ that matters.

Castiel opens his eyes to Zachariah's, and as he nods curtly to his boss, he clamps down on an inexplicable wave of regret. "Sir."

Zachariah's self-satisfied smirk widens. "Get back to work. Your previous vessel is in danger, but he can be saved. Take care of it."

So he does. He stands unnoticed behind his vessel's daughter, watching the scene unfold before him and wondering how he can possibly make this work in his favor when he is presented with the perfect opportunity – the daughter's prayers. Unknowingly, or perhaps not, she offered herself as a vessel if it would save her father. It could, Castiel thought to himself, just work, since her father's blood ran through her veins.

'Are you willing to give up everything to save your father?' Castiel whispered into her mind.

And of course, the answer was yes.

So he did. He took over her body, and saved her father – his true vessel – even saving her mother instead of killing her along with the demon inside her, before doing what he had come to do – take his vessel back. And what would Dean call it? Ah – toeing the company line, with his mistruthful truth that he followed the will of God, not men.

Still, as he walked away from the Winchester brothers' accusing stares, he couldn't help but wonder why his heart felt like it was being carved out.

Unbeknownst to anyone, a lightning bolt scar engraved itself over his heart.

**Lesson Learned**

"… Also, natural-born wizards live mainly in the old world, where magic, through heavy amounts of use, is more orderly and easy to use. That is not to say, however, that the Americas are devoid of natural-born wizards, but they do have a much larger population of squibs – or the children born to magical families, but are they themselves without magic. It is these squibs who have always formed to core of demon-dealing witches, as they are exponentially more likely to sell their souls for the chance to have magic because of their willingness to do anything to have what they feel they rightfully deserve and have been cheated out of. That willingness is thought to have lead to the witch burnings that spread across Europe and into the Americas. After that, it s easier to see where the two groups truly started to separate, as natural-born wizards went into hiding following the witch burnings, while demon-dealing witches merely went underground to continue wreaking havoc among non-magicals. Not to mention…" Castiel continues to lecture, most of the information soaring over the heads of the three men sitting in front of him.

Dean, never the best at sitting still and listening, had long since let his mind wander. However, as Castiel continued to talk, Dean began to wonder – since Angels aren't all-knowing, something even Zachariah admitted – just how did Cas know all of this? Especially without even the smallest shred of a connection to heaven? So, Dean being, well, Dean, asked. "Cas, how do you know all of this?"

To his right, Bobby snorted sarcastically, and snarked, "Probably learned it all in Angel school or something."

But Dean knew that wasn't right, because Cas was getting paler and paler, his lips moving soundlessly, and his eyes growing wide with what Dean would have called fear, but that couldn't be right because Cas _never_ showed any emotion, let alone fear.

"Cas?" This time from Sam, his voice filled with concern.

"I –" Castiel stuttered around the lump in his throat, forcing his eyes to look at Dean instead off staring unseeingly at the wall behind him, "I don't know."

Bobby, about to say something twice as sarcastic as before, froze in shock and joined the Winchester brothers in staring at the ashen angel.

* * *

A/N: Well, this came to me after I saw the episode in season 4, and I wondered what happened to Cas while he was "dead" and the Winchester brothers were taking care of Jimmy, and then again when they go to take care of Lillith and they think Cas has died fighting the angels. May or may not continue this, depends on reception. That said I hope everyone likes this, and please don't forget to review.

~Sayanora!


	2. In the Hearts of Man

Chapter Two - In the Hearts of Man

**Left Behind**

Draco is not bitter. He vaguely knows he should be, because if he hadn't sided with Potter, he might still have his magic, might have been better able to protect Luna. But, then again, he can't blame Potter. After all, he had saved them both. Luna, he had snatched straight from Voldemort's stronghold with no backup, helping her piece back together parts of her shattered mind after a month of torture. Draco, the week before, because he had tried to stand up for his wife when he had found her, and Potter had been the only one willing to take in and save the now magicless and marked man. (And that still hurts sometimes, the complete absence of magic and the feeling of it being ripped away.)

So, no, he isn't bitter. Because Potter had entrusted Luna to him after _everything_, had trusted him to keep them all together, and that is more than anyone else has ever done.

**Bravery**

"Being brave isn't not being afraid. It's knowing you are afraid and doing want needs to be done anyway."

Neville isn't quite sure who originally said that, but he knows that it is his motto, his family's motto. Because he can remember the day they were all afraid of dying and Harry saying those two simple sentences. That was the day he began to live by those words, even years later when his body began to wither. Even now that the greatest thing he had to be afraid of is the plants in his garden and Luna disappearing. Because Harry had been brave once, and had sacrificed himself for all of them, all of the people he had picked up, trusted, and protected.

**NeverNever**

Luna is lost in a land of inbetweens. Or, as she prefers to think, she is wandering these inbetweens. After all, not all who wander are lost. It is there that she catches glimpses of of Harry as he is now, as he could be, and what he might yet, or might never, become. She vaguely knows that Harry would want her to tell someone what she has seen, but she can't remember who and as she get lost in new betweens, she forgets what she wanted to say. Still, as she peeks in on her guardian angel - she never entirely sure why she calls him that, has always called him that - she has to laugh, and it echoes in the calm silence of Grimmald Place.

**Separate, not Equal**

Hermione was a brilliant witch. She still is, sometimes, because she did manage to develop a spell to mimic sight in less than a day, but most days she loses track of who she is, _what _she is, because she _forgets_. She spends days, _weeks_, lost in a haze of not quite dreams she cannot escape, sometimes forgetting she even exists. But when she is awake, she is so much like she used to be.

But it gets harder every day. Draco, and even Neville, tries to take care of her, to bring her back, but they are not so much beacons as a pair of flickering candles as they try to guide her back to herself. Then again, compared to Harry, everyone was dull, because he shone like the sun, a nimbus of pure energy that could blind if looked at for to long. It had been so much easier for Hermione to retain her sense of self when Harry had been alive.

**Dreams**

Sometimes, Castiel dreams. Even though he shouldn't even _need _sleep, sometimes he has these waking dreams. Dreams of a brown haired girl who was his first, most faithful friend. Dreams of a shy boy with the heart of a lion and love of plants. Dreams of a blonde girl who danced along the winds of the fey, not caring what anyone thought. Dreams of a blonde boy trying so hard to stand alone. Dreams of him and them on a battlefield and a broken home - leaving them, needing him.

But these dreams are disjointed, don't make sense, and soon enough they slip away from the grasping fingers of his memories. Because the harder he fights to keep them, the faster they slip away.

**Forever and a Day**

In the end, they are all waiting. Waiting to be needed. Waiting to be brave. Waiting to be guided. Waiting to be awakened. Waiting to be called. And they are willing to wait forever if need be, but when they stop, not even God could keep them apart.

* * *

AN: Well, I have to say, I wasn't expecting this story to get quite so much love! Here is my first continuation. The next one won't be for awhile, though, because I need to catch up on Supernatural before I start completely leaving canon behind - largely so I can know if I'm leaving canon behind! However! I will add more once I do so! Just give me time!

Also, before I answer reviews let me try to clarify the timeline a little bit. In this universe, the war took longer - at least five years longer. Because of that, Luna and Draco are the first victims, about a year into that time, with Hermione happening about halfway through, and Neville not until shortly before the final battle. Any questions, don't hesitate to ask!

Now, reviews!

Candinaru25 - Not quite. It's more of a second/double life because of the angels ability to travel in time.

angel de acurio - Um, I don't speak or read Spanish at all, so I had to rely of a translator site, but since I think you asked if Harry's friends were going to meet Cas and Dean, I hope this chapter answers that question.

LaurelGraceCourage - Well, I like to think that they were going anyway, but yes they've got a special place in hell waiting for them. I might even bring in Crowley, just for kicks and hellhounds.

Kayla44 - I will be doing that in future chapters!

Well, I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint, and please don't forget to review!

~Sayanora!


	3. Fire and Lies

Chapter Three - Fire and Lies

**Missing Person**

He is standing in a ring of holy fire, glaring at the upstart brats when it happens. Castiel appears, next to the annoying, noncompliant brothers, and says his name with a sort of resigned anger.

It hurts, more than it should, because even though Castiel was like the little brother who always got under his skin, he'd left willingly all those years ago. But then, he stops, and stares, and overlaid with this image of a dark haired, blue eyed awkward angel is one of a dark haired, green eyed _human _boy with an exasperated stare. It is all he can do not to gape, because suddenly, he is dumbfounded that he never saw it before. Because even though he had been the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter had always seemed invisible to him, even when he had been standing right in front of Gabriel.

And that scares him.

Because that could only happen with a fellow angel, and it was a fate Gabriel had barely managed to avoid before he had vanished into godhood.

He needed to talk to Crowley.

**Circumstances**

Crowley has never seen Gabriel quite so ... flustered. Pissy, yes. Upset, definitely. But flustered? Never.

Still, it's sort of amusing, watching Gabriel stuff a metric ton of sugary "food" down his throat as he paced and muttered to himself. Still, after about half an hour, it was getting boring. So Crowley waited until Gabriel had stuck a fistful of what looked like miniature donuts into his mouth, before appearing before his angelic acquaintance.

Who squeaked, and promptly had to attempt not to choke. "Crowley! Don't _do _that! You could've made me lose some of my precious donuts!"

Crowley smirked, and opened his mouth to tease the angel, when Gabriel pinned him with as serious a stare as the prankster could muster. So, Crowley paused, wondering what exactly had the trickster so on edge. But he didn't expect what came out of Gabriel's mouth.

"Did you ever meet Harry Potter?"

"Maybe." Crowley drawled, his raised eyebrow the only sign he might be shocked. "Why do you want to know?"

Gabriel nibbled on his bottom lip. "Um, well... IthinkCasielisHarryPotter."

Crowley blinked. "What?"

Gabriel shifted. "I-" he sighed, "I think Cassy might have been Harry Potter. But then again, I only met, I mean really talked to him once, well, besides a few times of mostly passing glances, which may or may not qualify as really meeting someone, but that's not really important, I guess, and I know you spent some time in Britain in the last couple of decades or so when you were mad at me and bored and-"

"Stop!" Crowley interrupted, his head starting to pound at the angel's rapid speech. "Why in the nine hells do you think Castiel and Harry are tied to each other?"

Gabriel twisted his fingers together in an oddly human nervous gesture, and looks away. "I've told you before, right, about what can happen to angels? Angels who do stuff like what I did? But without the benefit of being able to hide?"

Crowley nodded, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Well, I'm not sure when, but I think it happened to Castiel. And I think they made him Harry Potter."

Crowley felt his eyes widen as his mouth dropped open in shock.

**Chances**

This is where it begins - Crowley's wandering the deserted labyrinth of identical houses that makes up the London suburb know as Little Whinging, Surrey. He is there because, somehow, there is an unmanned crossroad near there, and, even more improbably, there have been the faint stirrings of intent calling out that a deal will soon be made. But Crowley has all the time in the world because the mortal seeking a deal is waffling, deliberating over the payment and choices and if they are willing to seal a deal with a demon.

That is, until the mortal finally decides to go through with it, and begins the ritual to call a demon.

The first thing that comes to mind when Crowley appears behind the mortal hoping to make a deal, is that a mistake has been made, because walruses can't talk, let alone call _him_. Then he takes a second look, and realizes that it is simply a morbidly obese whale of a man. Whom he sincerely hopes has never procreated.

Crowley has only barely finished introducing himself, when the man begins speaking. Or rather, monologuing about how he wants the power to take control of his old company so that he can make sure his son - and Crowley mentally shudders at the thought - is well set off once he dies.

And revenge, can't forget revenge, on the people who dared to fire him.

There was only one oddity - the man wanted twenty years, instead of the usual ten.

Crowley considered it for a moment as the man continued on, before deciding that it could work - so long as there were a few ... additional conditions.

"If," Crowley drawled, interrupting the man mid-rant, "I grant you ten additional years, there will have to be an additional price to pay."

The man's piggy eyes bulged, and he blustered. "Say here, what do you mean by that?"

Crowley waved a hand negligently, "Nothing much. Just for an additional ten years, I must have a second soul. After all, it _is _ten years per soul."

The man took a moment to think it over, which obviously required the full use of the stunningly few brain cells he had available to him.

Finally, after an excruciatingly long minute, the man nodded and replied, "As long as it isn't my son, I can agree to that."

Crowley nodded equitably, knowing it would be easy enough to take someone else's now unknowingly damned soul. Maybe that of the woman stupid enough to bare the whale's child?

"Now," Crowley began, stepping forward as he spoke, "to seal the deal."

At this, the man took a step back. "Now see here, do we _have _to," and the man shuddered with revulsion before he squeaked out, "kiss?"

Crowley sighed internally, but managed to plaster on a smile. "Yes, but think. One small kiss, really no more than a peck on the lips, and you'll have all the power you desire, you _need_, for your quest. And after you've come so far with your desires, do you really want something so small to stop you from getting what you deserve?"

The man visibly shuddered again. "Alright." He muttered, eyes closed. "Just a small peck, and the ritual did say something to that effect anyhow, and I knew that before I started." He shuddered again, and said again, practically shouting, "Alright then, get it over with!"

Crowley, now smirking internally, sealed the deal.

**Séance**

Crowley watches the man waddle off back home as fast as he could, only now realizing he had missed the man's name. Not, of course, that he'd need it to find the man's soul when the time came. And yet, despite the fact that the deal was done, and there was no need for him to remain at the now abandoned crossroads, Crowley didn't move from his spot. At least, not until a voice came floating out from behind him.

"What were you doing with my Uncle?"

Crowley jumped about foot into the air, and whirled around, eyes immediately drawn to the tiny child kneeling next to his hellhound. He studied the waif, taking in its - his, Crowley's mind corrected - impossibly green eyes, and emancipated frame, before his mind brought up the boy's words.

"You're related to that whale?!"

The boy studied Crowley's face for a few moments, before nodding slowly. "Guess so." The boy replied with a shrug. "Considering how much they say I'm a burden, I don't think they'd keep me if we weren't related." Here the boy paused again, taking more time to examine Crowley, as if looking at his nonexistent soul. "Will you tell me what you were doing with my Uncle, please sir? I need to know if I'm going to have to stay out of the way tomorrow once I'm let back inside."

Crowley held his tongue of the words that wanted to come, words to question why the boy was locked outside on the chilly fall evening, in clothes little better than rags, because he knew the answers far too well. After all, many who came to him to make a deal had been abused, and this boy fit the picture to a tee.

"Your Uncle sold me his soul so that he could get his job back."

The boy nodded, as if he expected that. "Well," he muttered, "at least my research was useful, though I am a bit surprised it wasn't too _freakish _for Uncle Vernon."

Crowley cocked an eyebrow at the boy's words. "Hey, kid. What's your name?"

The boy looked up sharply. "M'name's Harry. And I'm not a kid anymore, I'm nine."

Crowley felt his other eyebrow rise, but before he could say anything the boy continued speaking.

"And I ain't making a deal with you either." Harry glared up at Crowley as if he could read the demon's mind, green eyes blazing, "I may not be much, and I may be a freak, but my soul's all I've got and my teacher said that our souls are everything we are and everything we could be and all our hopes and dreams all together and infinite." And as he spoke, the boy began to glow, as a purifying power almost like an angel's Grace surrounded him. "And I can't give that up, not to anyone, because... Because I know I can be more than what my relatives think of me."

And the boy looked up at Crowley, power gone and eyes now glistening with tears, and Crowley for once in his very, _very _long life, felt shame.

So, with an internal sigh at the upheaval to his personal equilibrium, he knelt in front of the boy. "Kid, I can't promise I'll never ask that, because that is what I am. But," here Crowley paused as a truly wicked (for him) idea came into his head, and a vaguely demonic smirk scuttled across his face. "should you need me, I believe I shall be in the area. You need only call my name three times at this crossroads and I shall come if I am able. I will not always be able, but I will try." 'After all,' he thought to himself, 'I do have a deal to check up on, and maybe a few more to make.'

"So, I just need to say Crowley three times?" Harry replied skeptically.

Crowley just smirked a little more, and nodded.

Harry stared at the demon for a few more seconds, before nodding in acquiesces.

**Corruption**

Harry spends most fall nights with Crowley that year, and quite a few winter ones. For the first time in his then nine years, Harry gets to celebrate Christmas. Then spring comes, and summer, and his first birthday party, and another full turn, and as far as things go, Harry's life is infinitely better for Crowley.

Crowley is the first to learn of Harry's letter, and feels an inordinate amount of pride and a vague sense of gleeful corruption at Harry's skill in pick pocketing and pranking, as he listens to Harry's greatly exaggerated tale of pulling a letter directly from his uncle's pocket. He, not Hagrid, takes Harry to Diagon Alley. He sees Harry off to Hogwarts every year, and when things go to hell, he may, not that he'd admit if, have willingly given the boy some help. But even as he watches the boy age, and eventually disappear, he never remembers the complete flash of purity from their first meeting.

**Magic Tricks **

Gabriel comes to Hogwarts in Harry's sixth year. He isn't quite sure why, just that it has been a boring seven years without Crowley, who's been avoiding him for that long because of some stupid joke Gabriel barely remembers. So he's looking for entertainment, because his normal gig just isn't cutting it anymore, and he hasn't been to Hogwarts to check out the next generation of pranksters anytime lately so he feels it's past time.

Once he gets there, he realizes that the quality is ... lacking. As far as he can see, there's really only two, a pair of prankster twins. Inventive, yes, but only by purely magical means. It's as if they've never even heard of the things that normal people can come up with, that are simply _better _for that nonmagical element. At least, he thinks that for the first few months.

Then he began to see something else. Hints of a truly devious prankster, that had the signature of both the twins and _not_. And it made him positively gleeful. (Because, really, what _wizarding _prank turned peoples skin blue with artificial dye and woad?)

But he never expects who he finds as the culprit. Because, with laughing green eyes that sparkle with mischief, that reminds him of _someone_, the name just on the tip of his tongue, is Harry Potter. Not that it's really surprising, because _he _had been like that too, all shadowy tricks and jokes and an innocent face, masked by emotionlessness, that everyone believed and everything pinned on some clueless flunky. So, even though he discovers Harry's presence less than half way into the year, he waits until the end of the year to confront him. (Well, the year had been pretty dark, and despite what Crowley thought, he did understand the meaning and implementation of the word tact.)

It is just after Dumbledore's funeral, and oddly enough Harry is waiting for him and - _there are white, white wings stretching out behind him, gone, out of sight, out of mind, as soon as he blinks_ - the glare aimed at Gabriel when he appears is filled with exasperation.

"So." Harry starts abruptly. "You're the one who's been stalking me."

Gabriel gaped at Harry, "I - I am not a stalker!"

"Really? Cause I know you're not a Slytherin student, despite the crest on those robes, since Draco's never once mentioned a student that looks like you. And I've seen you watching me, ever since Yule, and I know you were watching the twins before that, so what else am I supposed to call you?"

Gabriel made like a fish, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing rapidly.

Harry smirked at the sight. "Well?"

Gabriel stomped his foot. "I'm not a stalker!"

"Well, I'm pretty sure you've been sneaking around, with unlawful intentions, so what other word would you prefer?" Harry replied with a smirk.

Gabriel glared at Harry in response.

The smirk never moved, but Harry bowed his head in apology, "How can I help you?"

Gabriel shrugged, accepting Harry's vaguely Crowley-esque apology. "Just wanted to meet you, before you left, _especially _after the Smurf prank."

Harry's smirk turned into a genuine smile, "Yeah, that one was pretty good. How'd you know it was me?"

"The artificial dye, or should I say massive amounts of blue food coloring, was my clue it wasn't the twins. But I clued on to you with the Massive Pile of Goo incident that the twins took credit for, but when it happened, they were surprised, _you _were smug."

A smug smile crossed Harry's face at the memory, as he nodded in understanding. But before he could say anything else, the train whistle pierced the silence. Harry looked backwards quickly, before turning back.

Only to find himself standing alone.

**Fin**

When they leave their memories, Crowley is the first to speak. It starts with a distinctly shark-like grin that splits his face, "Oh, I can't wait for that deal to end."

Gabriel gave him a look of confusion, but Crowley continued on before Gabriel could actually say anything. "It's been what, eighteen, no nineteen years, now since one Vernon Dursley, also known as Harry Potter's uncle came to me to make a deal for power, so long as he got twenty years and I got two souls. So I'm going to take great pleasure in dragging his soul and his wife's soul to hell."

At that Gabriel and Crowley shared a vicious smirk.

* * *

AN: And CUT! ~ I have had this chapter in my head for almost a month, after I watched the episode that introduces Gabriel, whom at that point was merely a "trickster". Also, this chapter is dedicated to Windy Rein and LaurelGraceCourage. The first asked for Gabriel and Crowley, and the other said the Dursleys should go to hell, and I must say I took great pleasure in writing this chapter, and laughed evilly when I got the idea.

As before, though, I have no idea when the next chapter will come, as this (along with Axis) are really rarely visited by my muse. Hopefully the next one will have something to do with everybody coming together, but it could just as easily be a series of vignettes from Team Free Will's POV.

Still, I hope that this chapter isn't too much of an evil cliffie, or make anyone want to cry or punch me in the face (or both).

Please don't forget to review!

~Je mata!


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